Categories
NSTIW The Ordinary

Ta-Ta-Ta-Ta-Taxi

More fun with taxis!

I go out to Giza 2 days a week. I do some volunteer computer-type-thingies for one of the Egyptology groups that work near the pyramids.

From Zamalek, the easiest way to get there is by taxi.

Getting a taxi to Giza is pretty easy. I flag down a taxi and tell them “Giza” and the driver’s eyes light up with (the local equivalent of) dollar signs. They figure they have a rich tourist on their hands.

I then tell them, in very rough Arabic, that I want to go _near_ the pyramids but not _to_ the pyramids. And that I want them to take the ring road. That makes them unhappy because

  • it means I probably am not a tourist and I speak at least a little Arabic, so it means I am going to be a little hard to bilk
  • it means that they cannot drive the surface road route to the pyramids
  • it means that they cannot take me down what I lovingly refer to as, “tout alley”.

This is the main street leading from Giza to the Pyramid entrance. (or one of them, anyway).

Along this street will be young men who will, quite literally, run into traffic when they see a taxi with a khwaga (foreigner)  in it. They usually congregate around the intersections where taxis have to slow down or stop.

It will be several minutes of:

“Hello! Where you from? You go pyramids? I take you. I take you horse ride” etc etc

My favourite experience along those lines is when I told the driver to take the ring road, and he did not. (I wasn’t paying attention. I was listening to music and day dreaming. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late to make the turn off.)

I let him know that I was not happy that he did not take the ring road. And I let him know that I was not interested in going to the pyramids, or a horse ride, or a guide.

As we approached tout alley, he was waving people off in an attempt to placate the angry khwaga. One fellow ran along side the taxi and managed to get the front, passenger-side door open. He was attempting to get in the taxi to “be my friend”

I told the driver: “La-a. Mish aiz, yalla yalla.” (No. I no want. Step on it).

He accelerated. My new-wanna-be-friend was doing a pretty good job keeping pace. He was able to keep even with the taxi. But he was only even with the rear door.

The front door, which is still open at this point, mind you, is juuuuuuust out of his reach. He can keep up, but can’t gain the extra couple of feet needed to jump into the front seat.

The only thing that would have made this a perfect comedy is if he had run into the back of one of the mini-buses that was stopped along the side of the road or tripped and fallen.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wish harm on the young man. He is just trying to earn a living (granted, by being a nuisance and a leech, but still).

I would have laughed my ass off if there had been a harmless pratfall though. As it was, I got a chuckle out of waving out the window to him as he tried to keep pace.

It made up for the extra time required to take the surface roads.

But anyway, that isn’t what this post is about.

This post is about getting home _from_ Giza.

There are a lot fewer taxis available going from Giza at the time I want to leave. (between 5 and 7 pm).

Yesterday I had to wait for over 5 minutes (if you lived or even visited here, you would understand the magnitude of this statement) before any taxi came by. And it was full. It was probably 10 minutes before I got a taxi.

I got in the taxi. It was a pretty nice taxi, as Cairo taxis go. The seats were brand new.

Of course, they didn’t actually fit the taxi and were made for some sort of mutant that had a 36″ inseam and a 10″ torso (the “head” rest was low, between my shoulder blades).

But the taxi wouldn’t stay running. When ever he put the clutch in, it would sttttttutter. About half the time, the driver was able to give it gas and keep it from stalling. About half the time not.

Nor was it a lack of fuel issue. It was something else.

Normally this wouldn’t concern me for a couple of reasons

  • it is rather common for a taxi to die, either out of gas, or to stall and then fail to restart because of a dead battery.
  • taxis are usually a dime a dozen. If this one died, I would simply hop out and flag another

But this time was different.

I had waited a long time for a taxi. Getting out now would mean a long wait for another.

And we were going on the ring road. Where traffic would be wizzing by at anywhere from 50 to 150 kph.

So a breakdown on the ring road is a little hairier.

Oh, did I mention the wind was blowing and the sky grew dark?

So the taxi dies a couple more times. The last time right on the on ramp to the ring road. I analyzed the situation and figured

this is my last chance to get out before we get on the ring road.

He got it started again without even slowing down. And I chose poorly. I stayed in the taxi.

We get on the ring road. Traffic is moving fast today. (sometimes it is at a crawl).

Taxi stalls.

He pops the clutch.

Taxi stutters and starts. We drive on.

Taxi bogs down.

At this point I am actually a little nervous about a semi ploughing into the back of us as we crawl along at about 20kph.

He limps it to the side of the road.

Ok, time to get out and try to grab another taxi.

I am texting back and forth with the good doctor at this point keeping her apprised of my situation (“remember, I want to be cremated and my ashes flown back to seattle”)

So, NSTIW:

standing on the side of the highway

in the whipping wind

trying to hail a taxi

nobody is stopping

It was kind of amusing and I was actually chuckling about it.  To sum it up I will cut-n-paste from a message I sent my wife as I was standing on the side of the highway

Could be worse. Oh wait. It is raining.

It was only another 5 or 10 minutes before I was able to flag another taxi.

Good times…

Categories
NSTIW

A minor mystery solved

I have noticed, on several occasions a scene on the streets of Cairo, for which I had no explanation.

[Well, ok. There are MANY scenes on the streets of Cairo for which I have no explanation. I am going to talk about just this one, for right now]

The scene involves a man on bicycle.

This man is usually, but not always, dressed in coverall, usually green. Well under the grime and muck, it looks like it might have, at one time, been green.

And the grime and muck on this man is of epic proportions. One, if one cares to look, will see much grime and muck in Cairo. On the streets. On the cars. On some people.

There is a background level of muck and grime one expects to see everyday, and it becomes the everyday norm.

This muck, this grime….

It is truly a sight to behold. Enough that makes one cross the street to the other side when you see this guy pedaling your way.

In addition to this grime and muck, there are strapped to his bicycle a dozen or so, 2 meter long rods. With knobbly bits on the end.

At first I thought they were welding rods. But that did not explain the knobbly bits. Nor the level of grime involved.

Today, while walking the mean streets of Dahab, I saw this man in action.

He is the ROTO ROUTER man!

Those rods fit together to form a somewhat flexible “snake”.

I was walking down an alley and all the sewer covers were off and several guys were laying out these rods in anticipation of giving the sewers a good old snaking.

I stopped for a second to watch them assemble the tools of their craft. And then I realized

“Um. In a minute or two all that grime and muck I usually see on the bicycle rider is going to be right there in front of me, nice and fresh like. Time to move on”

So I hastily left the scene happy in the knowledge of another mystery of life in Egypt solved.

I celebrated with a milk shake on the beach.

And tried REALLY REALLY hard to not think of the muck-man on his bicycle.

Categories
Cultural Differences NSTIW

Yard Sale and Auction and privilege (again)

We live in “the hostel”. It has a floor of classrooms for Adult/Continuing ed classes, 5 floors of dorm rooms for students and 4 floors of apartments for faculty.

At the end of every semester, the housing department puts up signs for people to make donations of clothing, or housewares or whatever that people want to get rid of. Students returning to the US often dump clothing and some other items off in the boxes. Some of it is still good, but has to be jettisoned to make room for souvenirs. Some of it is crap. Just like donation boxes everywhere, I would guess.

The housing department collects all that stuff. They sort it. The everyday stuff: clothing, shoes (lots of them), books, cds, dvds, casette tapes, vcr tapes, hand bags, get marked and put on tables.

The “big” stuff gets put on the auction table. They had a small TV, several suitcases, a bunch of keyboards, a computer, a table top oscillating fan, etc.

All the money goes to a local childrens cancer hospital.

The doors open at 11AM. I go downstairs around 10:50 to get a cup of tea and to check out the setup. There about 40 or 50 people waiting for the doors to open! All egyptians. Mostly staff (custodial staff, office workers, security guards etc).

The yard sale was held in the glasswall enclosed cafeteria. It is possible to walk around the outside of it on 3 sides. I did that to observe what was for sale. Most of it was stuff I would not want. There were a few items of interest. Like the table top fan that I figured I would see what they go for.

While I was walking around, no fewer than 3 people asked me if I wanted to go inside to check it out before the doors opened. They were insistent that I not wait for the doors to open! I was the only non-egyptian there. I declined and decided to wait.

When the doors opened, it was a mad rush. The words “The Who concert, Cincinnati” came to mind.

Most people headed for the shoe table, which was at the back of for sale area.

Now, egyptians don’t line up for anything. And crowds consist of mostly elbows.

This.. this was a sight to behold. People were pushing and shoving to get to the shoe table. It was all good natured. People were laughing and joking with one another. While they elbowed each other out of the way.

I decided I was not man enough to wade in there during the first crucial minutes. I waited about 10 minutes for things to settle.

Then I went in.

After a quick loop through, I decided the only thing I was interested in was the table top fan. That was on the auction table and I had to wait for that.

When the auction started, the very helpful staff at the hostel kept wanting to intervene on my behalf and tell me what the bidding was. I understand the numbers well enough to be able to follow it on my own, so I said “thanks. I think I can follow it”.

At one point, one of the staff yelled “Englishi” and pointed to me. Everybody turned around to look at me. I smiled and said “La, La. Arabi kwaisz” [no, no. arabic is ok]. Everybody smiled and turned back to the auction, which continued in Arabic. For a while.

Then a smartly dressed young man fought his way to behind the table to stand near the auctioneers. He then proceeded to translate all the arabic numbers for me, looking right at me and repeating them all. I was the only non-arabic speaker in the room. I found it extremely annoying. He was being helpful, but it got under my skin.

What really made me grimace/chuckle was when he translated the very difficult arabic words “tellibishion” and “phillips” for me.

In the end I decided not to bid on anything. It was obvious that these were all local workers who made a fraction of what we make. I could have easily outbid anyone there for anything that I was interested in. But it just didn’t feel right to do so.

I am glad I went to experience it. I haven’t really seen anything quite like it before.

Categories
NSTIW

Keeping the lizard brain in check.

[there was a recent discussion on an email list I am on about fear. Here are my thoughts on it]
Lee wrote:
> I’ve called that the Zen of motorcycling. When I first started riding,
> when something unexpected happened, I’d tighten up, which is nearly
> always exactly the wrong thing to do. Eventually I trained my lizard
> brain to loosen up and ride it out. If sh!t is going to happen, sh!t
> will happen, and it’s best to not get to worked up about it right
> then.
>

Yeah.

I just recently experienced a small amount of fear.

We just got back from a week in Dahab. We went diving.

I am PADI OWD certified. Which is the most basic level
of scuba certification.

I did my certification work about 10 years ago and really
enjoyed my dives.

We went to mexico in 2001. We scheduled day on a boat with 2 dives.

We jumped in the water and floated to the top.
I felt like I could not inflate my BCD enough to get my head
above water. I tried to calm down.

Regulator goes in the mouth and we settle on the bottom
to sync up. We are in about 12 feet of water.

I feel like I cannot breathe. I am just shy of hyperventilating.
The dive master and I rise to the surface. We chat.
I convince him to let me try again.

Back down.
Same thing. I cannot relax.

I go back to the top and my day is over. I sat
on the beach and drank beer while the rest of the party
did their dive. and their second dive.

Fast forward to Dahab. This time it was a shore dive.
Strap on all the gear and waddle in.

Put in the regulator and swim out a little ways.
Settle on the bottom in about 3 meters of water.
I have never worked so hard to relax in my life.
I gave em the OK even though my lizard brain was screaming
“YOU CANT BREATHE YOU MORON! GET TO DAYLIGHT NOW”

Then a cool fish swam by and I forgot, momentarily,
that my air was coming through an itty bitty little tube.

After that I was still nervous but it was controllable.

I am still a “huffer” and I sucked that tank dry and my
gauge was reading lower than I would have liked by the
time we got out.

[my fault. this dive master used hand signals
to communicate how much air is left in the tank.
I screwed up the signals and the DM
thought I had more air than I did. I finally swam up to
him and showed him the gauge. we headed in]

I did better the second day, but there is still a great
deal of tension on my part.
[heh. I just realized I am gritting
my teeth as I type this.]

I will probably never get quite the thrill out of it that the good doctor
does, and I will probably never do as many dives as she does,
but it doesn’t suck.

I think I need to get an underwater camera, or a housing for
my p&s [ I can’t see taking my 30D underwater. The cost of an
blown seal [[no no, it’s just ice cream] would really ruin
my day].

I think the distraction of having the camera is just what I need
to take my mind off the fact that ALL MY AIR IS COMING THROUGH
THAT LITTLE TUBE OMG!

heh. phew.
I need a beer.

Categories
NSTIW

HO HO HO! Did I mention?

The Faculty Services Committee at AUC does lots of events all year for the faculty. They arrange tours to the pyramids, trips to Alexandria, museum visits etc.

They also have a Christmas party for the childrens every year. The regular Santa Claus is a member of the committee. Well this year, he had to fly back to the US for some surgery at the last minute. That left them without a Santa.

And the woman that usually plays the elf also had to leave Egypt for medical reasons. (Hmm, I hope there is no curse on those costumes…)

Anyway, the regular Santa knows me and felt I would make a great replacement. This thinking was entirely based on the fact that I would fit the costume without any modifications. I.E. I am short enough and fat enough.

So I got an email from the nice woman that coordinates this thing asking if I would be Santa and if Kaddee would be the Elf.

I have to admit that I wasn’t really excited about it but I said I would do it since they were kinda stuck.

So, there were 90 children, and 1/2 hour to “process them”. Hoist them on my knee, ask em their name (ismik a?) and how old they are (kaam omrak?) give em a small stocking stuffed with candy and send them on their way.

I was pretty nervous. I have never done anything like that before. The language and cultural differences were just icing on the cake.

After the first 10 or so kids it became kinda fun. Joke with the kids and the parents and kaddee. That was great for the next 50 or so kids. That last 30 kids was tough. It was really warm in that suit.

And then there was the little girl that was also celebrating her birthday that day. We got clued in so when she sat on my lap and told me her name, I said

“Wait a minute! It is your birthday today, right? Happy Birthday” and we all sang happy birthday to her.

The look on her face was priceless and worth the anxiety and sweating for 1/2 hour in the velour Santa suit.

Of course getting some of the cute moms to sit on my lap was nice too. 🙂

I understand the regular Santa wants his gig back when he returns. He is gonna have to wrestle me for it.

Merry Christmas.

Categories
NSTIW

See Jack. See Jack drive. See Jack have nervous breakdown…

I know I have posted about cars and the traffic here and how it is rather chaotic.

Well events have conspired against me and I had to drive today.

I needed to get from Cairo to 6 October City. It is an “industrial zone” with some housing and business and what not. It is about 30km from Cairo.

The university has cars (and drivers) available for faculty for a fee. They had no cars available at the time I needed to go.

No problem. I have the name of a couple of taxi drivers that I trust. I’ll call them. No joy. They are not available.

One of Kaddee’s co-workers offered to lend me her car. I was terrified. But I had no choice.

So, I picked up the car and headed out.

Getting out of Cairo proper is the scary part, but that went very well. Lots of honking and I was actually kind of enjoying the weaving in and out of traffic.

I saw the remains of at least 4 or 5 car accidents on the side of the road. Some of them involving 6 or so vehicles. Some of them minor, a few very serious looking. The biggest danger here is the vast difference in speeds. The limit on this piece of road is 100kmh. I approached people that were barely managing half that speed. And lots of cars do not have functional brake lights. So you really have to pay attention.

So I am driving to 6 October City. I have been there once. And I kinda know where I need to go, but I blow right past where I wanted to be, without realizing it.

So I drive for a few minutes and realize

“None of this looks familiar”

But it is hard to know, because one brown desert hill looks much like every other.

Finally I am sure that I must have missed it. I see one of those ubiquitous informal bus stops on the side of the road near the pullout for “Happy Land”, which is apparently an amusement park. In the middle of nowhere. It is either not finished being built or it is abandoned

These informal bus stops are not marked, but “everyone” knows where they are. There is also a felafel stand and a guy with a tea setup there. There are 2 or 3 buses in there and a few 18-wheelers.

As I pull into the dirt lot I noticed that the pickup truck in front of me is on fire. More accurately, what is in the back of the pickup truck is on fire.

I pull in and stop shorter than I planned to, to stay out of the danger zone and momentarily forget about asking for directions. I grab my little point n shoot camera and hop out of the car.

Allow me to backtrack a little. When I picked up the car this morning, the owner gave me the key and the remote for the alarm and told me how to use it. Pretty standard stuff.

So, when I get to the car, I put the key in the lock and open the car. The alarm immediately goes off. Crap! I frantically push buttons on the remote until the alarm stops.

I sigh, get in the car and drive.

Now, back to the dirt lot with the felafel stand, the tea stand, the buses and the pickup truck on fire.

I hop out of the car with my camera and I hear a noise behind me. It is a noise that one hears thousands upon thousands of times in ones life. An everyday, no one would think twice about, kinda noise.

The noise of a car door closing.

I heard it and my skin crawled. I turned around. The car was still running. The doors and windows were all closed.

And locked.

I speculate that in my frantic button pushing to turn off the damn alarm, i had relocked the car. And, apparently, one can open the car door while it is locked and have it still be locked. If the engine is running. I guess.

So, NSTIW. In BFE with a borrowed car that is now running and locked on the side of the road bordering the desert.

I figured I would just whip out my cell phone and start calling people until I found someone who would know the local equivalent (if there is such) of AAA.

You guessed it. My cell phone is in the car.

All right. Plan B.

I start asking for a cell phone at the bus stop. Problem is, I have no idea what anybody’s phone number actually is, because they are all programmed in my phone. And it’s not like you can call 411 here.

All right. Plan C.

I start asking if anybody can help me unlock the car.

People try all their keys and a screwdriver comes out.

We forage on the side of the road for a flexible piece of metal. No joy. Found a bunch of sticks. The windows have a full metal frame, so you can’t pull the window out to try to get at the locks.

We try to pry back the seal where the window meets the door and fish around with various pieces of wood and a piece of a broken car antenna.

The car antenna breaks, leaving a small piece in the door panel.

Sigh.

After about an hour, we are getting no where.

The nice men have to leave. The bus has been waiting all this time.

I continue on my own. No joy.

All right. Plan D.

I look at the windows. It is a Hyundai small SUV. In the far rear is a little quarter window. It doesn’t open, but it is the smallest piece of glass. I figure it has got to be the cheapest piece to replace.

But I wasn’t sure, that if I broke it, if I could reach a door handle. It was too small for me to crawl through. But I look around and there are plenty of scrawny Egyptians around, so I figured I could get them to do it.

I identify a likely hunk of discarded concrete, but I just can’t bring myself to do it yet. If it had been my car, I would have broken the damn window an hour ago and been on my way.
Another couple of trucks pull in and I decide to try my luck again.

We found more sticks and more screwdrivers.

One guy jammed the screwdriver into the door frame and we were able to pull back the door frame enough to wedge in a piece of wood. After a break we pulled back on it again and wedged the piece of wood in further. Another break. More wood wedging.

We were able to spread the door frame enough that we were able to, after many tries, get a stick in there to push the window button and open a window. (Luckily the car was running, otherwise the window buttons would not have worked)

I gave the nice man LE100 (about US$18). He was very happy. I was very happy.

2 hours later, I am on my way again.

Oh yeah, now I gotta ask for directions…

The funniest part of all this, to me, is that I was going out there to take a cardio stress test. (before you ask, everything is fine).

I finally get to the hospital and the doctor takes my blood pressue and says

“Hmm. it seems a little higher than usual today”

No kidding?